Today was one of those busy days that just take everything out of me. After putting off repairs to the washing machine for nearly a year, I decided it was time to bite the bullet and get it done. It beat trying to convince male offspring to remember to replace the towel that is used to sop up all the water gushing from said machine.
Anyway, the broken part was hideously expensive and that was one of the reasons the repairs were never finished. Or even started, for that matter, but I digress. The part arrived right on schedule and after watching the video and writing down all the steps necessary to fix the machine, Tam and I headed down to the futility room to do the deed.
Imagine our delight at discovering that the machine on the video was CLOSE to our model, but not the exact same one. In fact, some of the differences were rather important and would have been nice to know ahead of time.
Of course, knowing where my tools were ahead of time would have been nice as well, but we live with males and males tend to abscond with tools and leave them places that no woman would, or should ever be asked to go. I ended up going to the store for yet another nut driver because the one we could find wasn’t going to work. Insert sadface and a LOT of swearing here.
Once inside the machine, I accidentally broke a couple of possibly important pieces, and nearly lopped off a few fingers that did not belong to me. Fortunately my beloved has very quick reflexes, thereby saving her digits. The guy on the video took that front door panel off and, while he was holding it, unhooked the door latch wiring assembly and then set the door panel gently off to the side.
I am a strong woman, but that damn front panel nearly herniated my entire body, so I’m thinking I need to find that guy on the video and fill his underwear with kryptonite and then hand him that damn door panel.
Oh, and on MY machine, you cannot undo the wiring assembly; you must find someone willing to hold the heavy door panel. Thankfully we had access to a small wooden child’s chair that was the perfect height. But Tam had to hold the door and hand me the tools and parts I needed.
After all that, we had to put it back together. I’d just like to say, wow…that sucked. It’s pretty obvious the machine was designed by a man, because no woman in her right mind would do such a thing. That last spring that I needed to attach was a mean muthafucker.
Once it was done, we were too damn chicken to try it out right away. What if it didn’t work? Then all we’d accomplished was to break some plastic bits that weren’t on the video and strain every muscle we own.
But we finally got brave and ran a small load of towels. It was lovely to watch the machine do its thing and NOT leave a puddle on the floor. I celebrated by giving Bubba and Tam haircuts. It was right about then that I discovered that either my arms were growing weaker with fatigue or the electric trimmer was getting REALLY heavy. Or maybe someone snuck some kryptonite into my underwear that was the problem all along.
Despite the travails of our 90 minutes of repair hell (not including the trip to the store for replacement tools), I’m rather proud of what we did. However, I do not think I’ll try it again. Now that I know I can do it, and what all is required for a successful repair job, I am more than happy to call in an expert to make it go.
And he’d better break a sweat on that damn thing or risk winding up sporting kryptonite underpants.